


Contrition

by DontForgetToPanic



Series: Favorites [1]
Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: AU, Assassin Priests, Blow Jobs, M/M, PWP, Phil has an arsenal of lame jokes, Rimming, Sacrilege
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-03
Updated: 2017-02-03
Packaged: 2018-09-21 17:24:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9559529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DontForgetToPanic/pseuds/DontForgetToPanic
Summary: In which priests take a very liberal approach to the whole idea of "doing the lord's will."  AKA: clergy do morally dubious things.





	

“You didn’t forget the gun this time did you?”

“One time,” Phil mumbles, “one time I forgot the gun, like five years ago.”

“I had to use a rock to complete our mission. It’s 1932 Phil, we shouldn’t have to do something as archaic as killing someone with a rock,” Dan says.

Phil, the most eloquent of men, huffs.

“Aww, don’t sulk Philly, we all still love you,” Dan slings his left arm around his shoulders just as Phil sticks his tongue out at him.

“Is it a holiday or something today?” Dan asks, tilting his head as he looks at the bare streets and the lifeless storefronts.

“It’s a Thursday,” Phil points out. Dan stays silent, waiting for Phil to elaborate.

Phil, true to form, does not elaborate.

“What’s special about Thursdays?” Dan asks.

“Thursdays are unlucky. It’s best to just ignore them,” Phil says, lips quirked to tell Dan his question’s ridiculous. Dan raises his eyebrows to let Phil know that _his_ answer is ridiculous, and they continue to walk down the cobblestone streets, both clad in the signature dark cassocks reserved for the ordained.

Despite Phil’s prejudices it’s a good thing they’re taking this walk on a Thursday, there’s no one in the streets to see the fondness radiating off each other. They’re priests after all, they’re here to be stoically pious, or piously stoic, or anything other than the soft way they smile at each other.

“What was the address again?” Dan asks as they approach a street lined with ornate homes built to house ornate people.

“We’re coming up, it’s the one with the gold gates.”

As they approach Dan unzips the duffle bag slung over his shoulder, pulling out a large set of wire cutters. He hands the tool over to Phil as if they’ve done this mission a thousand times, as if It’s normal for two priests to break into a French mansion on a silent Thursday morning.

Phil handles the wire cutters with experience; however, the wire cutters themselves don’t seem to get the message.

“The iron’s too thick,” Phil says, frowning at the gate as if he’s personally offended. Dan smiles, because what Phil can’t do with brute force Dan can do with much more efficient means.

“Scoot over my son, Father Daniel’s about to work his magic.” Dan pulls a small black pouch out of his trouser pocket and shuffles through the assortment of metal tools inside.

It only takes him a minute to pick the gate’s lock, and as he pushes it open his sends Phil a wink over his shoulder.

“You’re pretty cocky for someone who had to sleep on the monastery’s porch last week because he lost his key,” Phil says while they walk up the driveway, “I thought you were the master locksmith?”

“I was quite drunk if you recall,” Dan says while definitely not pouting.

“Gluttony’s a deadly sin.”

Their conversation cuts off once they reach the front door. Dan tries the handle and when he confirms that the door is locked he moves to the side, allowing Phil to test one of the front windows. He jimmies it until it slides up, conveniently (irresponsibly?) unlocked. Phil trips over a potted plant after he climbs through the window and if Dan believed in karma he would say this is in retribution for the dead houseplants wilting in Phil’s chambers.

Inside the first floor is empty, just like Brother Nathan’s intel Promised. There will only be two people in the mansion this early on a Monday: one bodyguard outside the study upstairs, guarding where Misour Jackson (codename “Misour Dickhead” if you happen to be Archbishop P.J.) will be. Dan pulls out a pistol from the duffle and checks to make sure it’s loaded before handing it over to Phil.

“You got the rag?” Phil whispers, and Dan nods, pulling out a white towel and small bottle. They stand together at the top of the staircase while Dan dampens the rag with the chloroform, and once he’s done Phil moves ahead, looking around to make sure they’re alone.

“The study’s to the left around the corner, I can move on ahead and take out the guard. When I’m done I’ll signal you to come over,” Dan whispers. Phil motions for Dan to hurry up already, they’re serving salmon for lunch and he is not going to be late. Dan, somehow knowing Phil’s thinking about the salmon, lightly punches Phil’s arm before heading down the hallway.

The guard, a burly fellow with a growing bald spot, is just like Nathan said. He’s sitting outside the study with the day’s newspaper in hand, inattentive and sluggish, just how Dan likes them.

Dan has a knack for sneaking up on people just like Phil has a knack for execution, both of which would be highly surprising to anyone who meets them (although most people who witness their talents don’t have much time to be surprised, they tend to have bigger things to worry about…like the afterlife.)

As it is, Dan has no trouble dealing with the body guard—the man’s passed out before he even notices the rag pressed against his mouth.

Phil’s by his side before Dan even calls him over. They enter the study together, Phil with his pistol held out in front of him and Dan brandishing a crucifix he pulled from the duffle.

Misour Jackson doesn’t look up from his mahogany desk until Dan clears his throat, but when he does his eyes widen and he hastily stands, knuckles white and lips thin.

“What do you…who are you?” Misour Jackson asks, his posture confident even when his voice shakes.

“I’m here to give you your last rites, of course,” Dan smiles, coming over to sit on the edge of the desk.

“Please brother, sit. I would love for you to be comfortable in your last moments,” Dan continues, pressing against Misour Jackson’s chest with enough force to push him back into his plush chair.

“Tell me, are you Catholic? You must be I assume. Do you have anything you would like to confess, brother?”

What are you on about?” Misour Jackson says, his eyes flickering between Phil’s pistol and Dan. "Money? Is it my money you want? Because I have money!”

“I know what you should confess,” Dan continues, ignoring the other man’s words. He taps his finger against his chin, “how about the thirteen murders you financed? Or maybe the under-aged girl you’ve been seeing?”

“Don’t forget the loans,” Phil chimes in, “What are the kids calling you now? A loan shark?”

“Ah yes, my favorite,” Dan smiles, “you know, Usury laws are still a thing in the Catholic Church.”

“Aren’t you…you’re priests! Father Lester, I’ve celebrated mass with you, you can’t do this!” With that Misour Jackson starts to cry.

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Phil says, “we’re doing the lords work. We’re Noah, Misour Jackson, and you’re the scum to be eradicated.”

“Do you have anything else you would like to confess?” Dan asks, and Misour Jackson venomously shakes his head and starts to beg for his life, bribing them with his blood money and threatening then with empty promises of retribution.

“Well,” Dan continues, “since you don’t show much remorse I think I’ll give you a modified send off. I don’t absolve you from your sins. In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen.”

Phil shoots him directly between the eyes, and the begging stops.

____________________

“In the name of the Father, Sun, and Holy Spirit,” Dan whispers as he motions the sign of the cross. His knees are already beginning to sting where he kneels on the harsh stone floor, but that’s secondary to the look in Jesus’ eyes, the Lord’s judgement piercing as he hangs from the crucifix on Dan’s wall.

Dan works through the Hail Mary and moves on to the Lord’s Prayer, emphasizing the line forgive us our trespasses. Dan follows with the Act of Contrition, mimicking an actual session of Confession as if he was the one confessing—the confessor and the Lord’s vessel at once. He wonders, murmuring the prayer by rote, could he forgive his own sins? Should he forgive his own sins?

“Forgive me Father for I have sinned—”

“Call me Daddy and I’ll forgive you.” Phil’s voice echoes inside the small stone chamber and Dan startled even though honestly he should have seen this coming.

“I’m in the middle of prayer, Father Lester.”

“Yeah, I see you praying really hard,” Phil says, reaching over to pick up the half empty bottle of vodka on the window ledge, Ironically next to a statue of Mary.

“Is that tomato juice?” Phil asks after a moment, picking up a glass cup filled with a red liquid.

“I was planning on making a bloody Mary,” Dan confesses. Phil to burst out in laughter.

“Priceless,” Phil says, “Bless us for we are sinners in the hand of an angry God. Bloody Mary full of vodka, blessed are you among cocktails…”

“Pray for us now and at the hour of our deaths,” Dan deadpans, “which will probably be soon…”

“Amen!” Phil shouts. He takes a large swig of vodka for emphasis and slams the bottle back down.

Dan rolls his eyes and starts to stand up but Phil briskly steps forward to pushes Dan back down with a hand on his shoulder.

“Don’t let me stop you, go on. Say the Lord’s Prayer again.”

Dan considers telling Phil to fuck off, but there’s a glint in the other man’s eye that promises something they both shouldn’t want.

Dan wants it.

Dan’s eyes following Phil as he moves across the room to stand at the end of Dan’s small cot.

“Our Father, who art in heaven,” Dan starts, watching Phil unbutton his cassock and slides it down his shoulders.

“Hallowed be Thy name…”

Phil kicks off his black loafers.

“Thy kingdom come…”

Phil pulls down his woolen trousers, now completely naked, and folds it next to his cassock.

“Thy will be done—” Phil cuts him off, grabbing Dan’s jaw and coaxing it open.

“Why don’t you do my will for the moment,” Phil whispers, “the Lord’s not going anywhere, He can wait.” With their eyes locked he guides his cock into Dan’s mouth.

Dan mumbles something but it’s lost now that Phil’s cock lies half-hard on his tongue. Phil runs his fingers through Dan’s hair, waiting for Dan to make the next move.

Dan’s motionless long enough for Phil to get restless.

And then he moves.

Dan doesn’t like pretenses and he doesn’t like waiting, so when he sucks cock he sucks cock. He keeps both hands folded in prayer as he hollows his cheeks and takes as much of Phil as he can, and his eyes already sting but he just pulls back to suck on the head before sliding back down. Phil’s making the deep breathy noises he only makes when Dan goes down on him, and his hand is pulling at Dan’s curls in a way Dan knows he doesn’t realize.

Dan focuses on the sting of Phil’s grip as he runs his tongue around the base of Phil’s cock, and when he goes down once more his nose brush’s Phil’s pubic hair. Phil smells like something Dan can’t ever describe, something warm and familiar and calm. Even as Dan moves he focuses on that smell until his eyes fall shut and the only thing he smells is Phil and the only thing he hears is Phil and the only thing he knows is Phil.

Phil notices at the same time Dan notices, and they both know which direction this night can go. Phil loosens his grip on Dan’s hair, and he uses his other hand to brush along the side of Dan’s cheek. Dan wants that, he really wants that, but he also really doesn’t want that. He doesn’t feel special tonight, he doesn’t want to feel that tonight, he doesn’t know what he wants.

So instead he opens his eyes, listens to the bruising wind outside, breathes, and deep throats Phil until he’s about to choke.

“Christ,” Phil moans, caught off guard by Dan’s sudden change of mood. Not that he’s complaining…that is, until Dan presses his teeth lightly against the base of Phil’s cock for breaking the third commandment. He lets his teeth press softly again against his skin, just enough to tell him I’m here.

“Fuck, sorry, sorry,” Phil says. Dan glances up at him and smiles as much as one can with a dick in their mouth. The glassy look Dan has is fading away, slowly being replaced by the familiar glint that basically describes their friendship and yeah, Phil can definitely work with this Dan too.

“Fuck,” Phil repeats himself. Dan hums around his cock in a way that sounds suspiciously like a laugh. Phil takes a minute to form his words.

“Look at you,” Phil says, “so beautiful like this, made for this…on your knees, praying, sucking me off. If the Holy Spirit is always watching us do you think they can see how you’re such a slut for me?”

Dan hums again around his cock. Spit is starting to dribble down his chin so Phil brushes it away with his knuckles before tightly gripping Dan’s chin so he has no choice but to look at Phil.

“Only a slut for me though, right Father Daniel?”

Phil feels his orgasm in the pit of his stomach so he pulls off, hissing at the harsh cold in the air. Phil keeps one hand on Dan’s chin and jerks himself off with the other, and Dan tilts his head to the side as if to ask what’s taking him so long. Phil’s breaths stagger and his throat starts to constrict and suddenly he’s coming all over Dan’s cheeks, chin, and the top of Dan’s robes.

Phil’s panting but Dan doesn’t let him recover, instead reaching up to grip his shoulder and pulls him down until they’re facing each other on their knees.

“Fuck you, you softhearted artichoke, you just came on my face,” Dan frowns.

“It’s all good Dan. I’ve anointed you with my holy salvation.”

“Fuck off,” Dan says, holding back an eyeroll, “lick it clean.”

“What?” Phil asks, still in his post-orgasm haze.

“I said,” Dan grips Phil’s fringe, “lick it clean. I’m not gonna let you fuck me while I have your salty jizz on my face.”

“My cum isn’t the only one who’s salty today.”

Dan huffs at his words and pulls Phil’s face towards himself until Phil’s nose is flush against Dan’s cheek, and honestly Dan just gave him one of his top ten blow jobs ever, so Phil might as well indulge. He trails his tongue all along Dan’s left cheek, slowly moving down his face until his reaches Dan’s chin, where his fingers still linger. Dan closes his eyes and tips his head back when Phil presses his lips against Dan’s neck and sucks, trailing kisses around his collarbone as Dan gasps above him. While Dan’s caught off-guard Phil surges forward, grabbing Dan around the waist and tipping him back so they’re on the ground, Dan fully clothed with Phil naked above him.

“Wha—” Dan starts to ask, but then Phil is pressing their lips together, harsh and biting. His tongue maps out the inside of Dan’s mouth, tracing along the edges of his teeth and trailing the bumps and ridges of Dan’s own tongue, and when they pull apart for air Phil reaches one hand down to press against where Dan is hard against Phil’s leg.

“Is that a bible in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?”

Dan’s eyes flicker open and he looks at Phil like he’s personally offended.

“That was terrible. Like, I feel secondhand embarrassment for you,” Dan says, although his voice betrays the smile he’s trying to keep off his face. Phil rolls his eyes and lifts his shoulders in a shrug.

“Come on, let’s be like King David and Jonathan and knit together our souls,” Phil smiles, and Dan pinches his arm.

“Wow, you’re just going to commit heresy about everyone in the Old Testament aren’t you?” Dan asks, breaking out in laughter.

“Old Testament, New Testament, I don’t discriminate. Now come on, the real sin here is the fact that your clothes are still on.” They work together to strip Dan, and once he’s naked Phil flips him over so he can fit his hand over one of Dan’s butt cheeks.

“I’ve been thinking about this all week,” Phil says, his voice bordering on reverent, “what we talked about in the confessional. I just…I can’t get it out of my head.”

“Well stop dwelling then and get on with your promise,” Dan whines.

And so Phil does, spreading Dan’s with both hands and lowering his head.

A normal person would ease someone into the sensation of rimming, first licking around the rim of the hole, lightly moving their tongue before becoming brasher, and then—only then—they would use their tongue to actually enter the other person.

Ask Dan and he will tell you: Phil is not a normal person.

“Fuck!” Dan pants, the cold floor pressed to his cheek, “fuck, fuck, Phil what the fuck! Don’t stop, don’t you fucking dare stop,” Dan’s gasping and fingers trying to grip the tile floor but keeps slipping. Phil, never one to deny Dan anything, presses in harder and fucks him with his tongue.

“Don’t stop…wait! Wait do stop, hold on,” Dan reaches one shaky arm down to grip Phil’s hair and he pulls the other man until they’re laying side by side on the floor facing each other.

“What?” Phil pouts, lips glistening with spit, “I was on a roll down there. I was reciting psalms with my tongue.”

“I needed to do this,” Dan says, and then he’s sitting up and rolling Phil onto his back.

“What…oh,” Phil starts, catching onto what Dan’s doing and he’s completely, totally on board with what’s about to happen. Dan twists around so he can’t see Phil’s face and he straddles Phil’s chest. Dan shuffles back on his knees, looking over his shoulders until he’s in position.

And then he sits.

“Fuck, fuck perfect,” Dan whispers, his voice light, “this is it, we’ve found your vocation. God had a plan and you were created to have me sit on your face.” Phil hums and continues to thrust his tongue against Dan’s hole, alternating between licking and pushing his tongue inside. When Phil reaches one hand up to push a finger alongside his tongue Dan tips his head back and nearly yells. Dan lifts one hand to muffle his voice and uses to the other to press against Phil’s chest, leaning forward as his balance starts to give out. It feels so good, his stomach is so warm, he can feel the beginning of an orgasm building up in his core… until he opens his eyes to meet the judgmental stare of the crucified Jesus, frowning down at him as if to say I’m crucified on the cross right now and you’re letting your best friend stick his tongue up your ass.

“Shut up Jesus, you shouldn’t have invented sex if you didn’t want people to partake.”

Phil stops his work and turns his head so he’s not muffled under Dan.

“What did you say?” Phil asks.

“Nothing, it’s nothing,” Dan assures him, “keep going.”

“Alright,” Phil says, but instead of continuing he sits up, gripping Dan around the waist until his chest is flush against Dan’s back, one arm wound tight around Dan’s waist, spreading Dan’s legs wide by pushing them on the outer side of Phil’s.

“What? No, you’re not done yet,” Dan says, trailing off once Phil starts to kiss up his neck. Phil reaches up to Dan’s end table and blindly moves his hand around until he grips a glass bottle, pulling it off the table.

“No, you are not going to use Holy Chrism to finger my ass,” Dan says once he sees what Phil’s is holding, and Phil can’t help but break out in laughter.

“It’s not blessed yet, so technically it’s not holy,” Phil says, but Dan looks over his shoulder, squinting as their eyes meet.

“I don’t trust you.”

“I’m a priest, it’s a sin to lie,” Phil says, kissing the tip of Dan’s nose.

“Sodomy’s a sin too, love, you’re a huge sinner,” Dan reminds him, scrunching up his face when Phil kisses his nose again. Phil considers what Dan just said, but after a moment he shrugs.

“Well, guess we’re going to hell babe. Which ring is for sodomites, the seventh?” Phil keeps talking as he uncorks the oil and pours it over a few fingers.

“With all the shit we’ve pulled we’ll probably be down there with Brutus getting eaten by Satan,” Dan says, breaking into a moan as one of Phil’s fingers enter him.

“Good thing the Inferno is made up. Nothing’s in the bible about the shit he says,” Phil whispers lightly in Dan’s ear, “and I would know, I’m a priest.”

“Never would have guessed you’re a priest,” Dan answers, feigning naivety, “what with your dick pressed hard into my back and all. Don’t priests have to vow chastity or something?”

“You’re a piece of work, you know that?” Phil laughs, two fingers lazily fucking Dan. Dan’s slightly bouncing now to try to push Phil’s fingers deeper inside him, but Phil just grips Dan tighter, sure to leave bruises on his waist. With that Phil adds a third finger, now pushing deep enough to move around and—

“There! There, Phil, right there,” Dan’s growing louder, and Phil wonders if anyone’s bothered next door. But then again, who cares?

Phil continues to press his finger against Dan’s prostate, slipping in his pinkie finger as well. Phil keeps it up for a few moments before he’s pulling out completely; he reaches one hand down to grab the base of his cock and lines it up with Dan’s hole. He pulls Dan up and hard against his chest before letting go, letting Dan sink down on his cock in one thrust. They both grown in unison and Dan leans his head back to rest against Phil’s shoulder, his face pressed into Phil’s neck, panting. Dan doesn’t move for a minute, too overloaded with sensations that’d probably make him come like a teenager if he didn’t stay still. Only after he’s sure he’s calmed down does he start to slowly move his hips up in tiny thrusts.

“There, now you’re filled with my Holy Spirit,” Phil says.

“Wow, you’re just doling out the blasphemy today aren’t you?”

“It’s what keeps me young,” Phil answers. Dan huffs out a light laugh against Phil’s neck and then Phil starts to thrust in earnest.

Dan’s arms flail around him trying to find something to hold onto but there’s nothing, nothing to help him hold his balance so every time Phil thrusts up Dan is pushed up and falls hard back onto Phil’s dick. The sound of skin hitting skin echoes around the room and Phil’s grunts are progressively getting louder the longer they move together. Phil, deciding he can’t move as fast as he wants, twists both his arms around Dan’s middle and moves them forward so Dan’s on his hands and knees, bent over while Phil slams into Dan even harder.

Dan’s arms give out after only a few thrusts, his arms buckling and he falls down so his face is pressed into the stone floor. Phil keeps one hand tight on Dan’s waist and the other hand rakes up and down Dan’s back, leaving red scratch marks in his wake. Phil can feel his second orgasm building but he knows Dan must be close as well so he slows down, instead thrusting hard and deep like he knows Dan likes it.

“You know what would be fitting?” Phil says after a while, and Dan just hums, too close to his climax to say much.

“We should fuck in the missionary position next time. You know, since we’re literally missionaries. Doing the Lords work and all that.”

“Shut the fuck up, you’re ruining my orgasm,” Dan gasps, and Phil thrusts harder to feign apology, reaching one hand up to wipe sweat off his forehead.

“Your orgasm seems to be coming fine. Look at you, bent over for me, your ass raised up like a present,” Phil starts to babble, and Dan groans at the thought, “God you look so hot, you know what it’s like? Seeing you every day but not able to touch you? God Dan, it’s fucking torture. Sometimes I just want to bend you over a pew while we’re in mass and just fuck you until you come. Right there in the eyes of God and the rest of the clergy.” Those words push Dan overboard and he’s coming, his breath stopping as he falls forward to lie against the floor. Dan clenches around Phil’s dick, so naturally Phil reaches his own climax as well.

They both lay tangled together on the floor trying to catch their breath, covered in sweat, come, and the disapproval of the crucified Jesus hanging up on the wall.

“I don’t think I can go again tonight, that was fucking intense,” Phil finally says after they’ve both cooled down a bit.

“It’s okay, we’ve got missionary work in Rome tomorrow anyway,” Dan says, punctuating his answer with a kiss to Phil’s chin.

“What kind of missionary work?” Phil asks, and Dan turns his head to look at him.

“The kind where you better not forget to bring the gun.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> The birth of this story happened one night over a year ago when my roommate wanted me to write a FF for her favorite KPop group. I, someone who knows nothing about KPop, agreed. I watched a few videos of the EXO and one of them reminded me of phil, so me being the lazy arse that I am wrote the FF as D&P and just changed the name for her band. I just came across this again on my computer and was like "damn, I should do something with this piece of heresy."  
> This is what happens when you spend 12 years in catholic school. I apologize.  
> Credit to Archer for the bloody mary prayer. 
> 
> Follow me on Tumblr if you want <https://dontforgettopanic.tumblr.com/>  
> *


End file.
